


Veritaserum

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death Eaters, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Pre-War, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles - 100 in all - focusing on the Death Eaters, especially their youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the First War

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 4th Ultimate Drabble Challenge on TFN back in 2009 (2008? I don't remember exactly anymore). Originally, we would get five prompts per week and write to them. This is how this fic was posted initially. For this re-post, and probably future ones too, I've re-organized/re-compiled the drabbles so that they are in more or less chronological order. i think this will make the whole thing read more like a story and have less leaps in logic that need to be made and everything is better connect.

**Unlimited**  
Tom Riddle had always had a dream of possessing unlimited power. The idea of being undefeatable excited him, making him shiver giddily all over from the inside. His powerless childhood at the orphanage had starved him for control, for respect. He knew that power would give him both, and in turn, power constituted of both. At Hogwarts, Tom did a lot of reading, his mind constantly making notes of what might help him to gain the power he desired. He finally came to the conclusion that immortality was one way to have ultimate power. And the way to immortality: horcruxes. 

**Wink**  
First Year Sorting – what could be more exciting and nerve-tingling? Twins Alecto and Amycus Carrow walked holding glancing a little nervously at each other. Their father had been in Slytherin and their mother in Ravenclaw. They had argued on the train which one was better. Now there was a good chance they would be separated.  
Alecto went first. She shut her eyes and listened to the hat’s raspy mumblings. Then in a clear, shrill call her fate was decided.  
“Slytherin!”  
She stood and looked back at her brother, giving him a smug wink. _You’ll have to ask for Slytherin now._

 **Out On A Limb**  
"Go, Lucius."  
"No.'  
"Lucius, do I have to force you?"  
"Shut up, Tony."  
"Lucius and Cissy sitting in a tree-"  
"That's it!"  
Lucius Malfoy was not a violent person but Antonin had somehow managed to get to him and he was about ready to jinx his friend for all the teasing. He wasn't sure why it was so hard to ask Nacissa Black if she wanted to go to The Ball with him but it was just not a risk he was up for. What if she says no?  
"I'll ask Bella if you ask Narcissa. Deal?"  
"Well...fine. Deal."

 **Out Of The Blue**  
The rain fell heavily on that particular February evening. Antonin was brooding. He would graduate that spring and there would be choices that he would have to make. Not just what he wanted to do in life but as to where he stood in the growing political unrest. If there was really a revolution coming as Lucius predicted then...  
The disapperation POP made Antonin whirl and draw his wand. He just managed to lower it before Bellatrix launched herself into his arms.  
"You frightened me! How did you find me?"  
She smiled happily up at him.  
"I'll find you anywhere."

 **Earrings**  
As a girl, Alecto loved earrings. For ministry balls she would wear her best evening gown, her hair up in curls and long, dangling earrings that glistened in the candlelight.  
That night – the year she turned 16 – she had worn her best earrings and gown to the Ministry Christmas Ball. Alecto was sure that she looked beautiful. He would surely notice her and ask her to dance! But dances came and went and still he hadn’t come to ask her to dance. “Amycus, have you seen Antonin Dolohov tonight?”  
Her brother sighed. “He’s been dancing with Bellatrix Black all night.”

 **Gallant**  
One of Lucius’ most attractive qualities, Narcissa soon found, was his gallantry. It went beyond opening doors and good taste in wine and conversation but also in the way he looked at her. It was in the way he held her hand, firmly but without a possessive insistence. He respected her, treated her as his future wife from the very first date. That was one of the differences between elite pure-bloods and the rest of them. There was a code, an etiquette. No young man raised in a proper pure-blood family would ever think of being anything but a gentleman.

 **Flash In The Pan**  
"We found it!" First-years Severus Snape and Evan Rosier scuttled into the common room. Seventh-year Lucius Malfoy looked up.  
"Let me see." He took the book one of the boys was clutching and looked over the folded page. He sighed, stood and pointing his wand in the air at a forty-five angle to the vertical, said clearly:  
“Monasterignis!"  
A large, fire cloud shaped like a monster-head formed in the air and charged at the stunner boys who tumbled over, trying to hide behind an armchair. The monster head snapped its jaws twice, then dissipated.  
"Now go find something that works."

 **Savior**  
When Tom Riddle first founded The Organization it was not only legal but immediately summoned large amounts of support from pureblood families, even those that would later fight on the opposing side once the war began. The Rosiers and the Mulcibers were proud to see their heirs rise through the ranks. Lucius Malfoy was a prominent ally. Tallis, Lestrange, Nott, Black, Goyle, Bullstrode, Flyte, Yaxley, Parkinson. Even Litman, James, and Prewett who later switched sides… the lines of support grew exponentially. Many purebloods saw Riddle as a savior, the organization as a chance. There was no end to their enthusiasm.

 **Loner**  
Adam Nott had always been a bit of a loner. He was never particularly introverted but friendship never came easily to him. His family was nothing in social standing compared to the Blacks, Lestranges, and Malfoys neither was he talented or successful in subversion like Dolohov or Yaxley. Nott had become a Death Eater not out of some incredible worship for Tom Riddle or out of an idealistic compulsion to rid the wizarding world of mudbloods, but mostly because at the time it seemed to be the right – the winning – thing to do. Ideologically – if anyone asked – he was neutral.

 **Sublime**  
The bouquet of red roses bathed in soft, warm candlelight was what caught her eye first. She threw off her cloak and took a few steps toward it. The note, sealed in a cream envelope that smelled lightly of vanilla read:  
 _To my lady of divine beauty_  
 _With pure love, sublime devotion_  
 _A token simple and so pure_  
 _Do know, you are my heartache’s only cure_  
She breathed in deeply, tilting her head back as she savored the moment, feeling the involuntary smile blooming from within her. She lived for this – his spontaneous inspirations.  
“You can come out now, Antonin.”

 **Wet Behind The Ears**  
"Bones, Caroline."  
"Gryffindor!"  
"Too many Gryffindors this year, what is the world coming too?" Mulciber complained. Tony waved for him to be quite. He personally liked to watch the sorting.  
"Bonfante, Anatole."  
A blonde boy with beautiful grey eyes practically skipped out of the queue and plopped down on the stool. There was a pause.  
"Slytherin!"  
The blonde jumped from the stool and jogged toward the Slytherin table a large, happy smile that radiated an unusual amount of warmth blossoming on his face.  
Tony remembered the thought - He doesn't belong in Slytherin. Not with that smile - going through his head.

 **Yellow**  
“You could’ve easily been in Ravenclaw,” Regulus pointed out to his housemate, Barty Crouch, who sat reading some large book. Regulus was lying on his back, enjoying the bright day. Yellow sun, yellow sunflowers, yellow bees and butterflies…  
“I know,” Barty said carelessly, flipping the page and squinting from the bright light.  
“Did the hat offer to put you there?” Regulus asked, propping himself on his elbows.  
“Somewhere in its ramblings. My mother made Ravenclaw. Does it matter?” Barty looked up, displeased at being distracted.  
Regulus shrugged. Crouch was strange – withdrawn – but Regulus figured he had to open up eventually. 

**Anything But That**  
There had been a time when Antonin didn’t hate aurors. That time ended on a stifling afternoon. They must have thought his sister knew something about the Organization. Otherwise, why would they interrogate her, torture her? He had come onto the scene by accident. Barely in his 20s. Still a boy. He had frozen in the doorway, not understanding why an auror was standing over his sister with a wand out while her body twitched. Twitched…then lay still.  
It was then he understoof and, in a surge of grief, shouted the two words that changed his life forever – _“Avada Kedavra!”_

 **Distance**  
The distance between them grew as the prisoners’ boat that would sail several miles north to Azkaban floated away into the fog.  
Bella stood at the magical barrier that separated the grey-sand beach from the icy water. Her yes were locked on a single shape on deck of the boat.  
Wandless, already in the prisoners garb, still grief stricken by the death of his sister and blind Wizengamot conviction, Antonin looked like a ghost. He held one hand out, as though reaching for her, and she pressed her hands against the Barrier, longing to feel his touch.  
The distance grew.

 **Belt**  
Andromeda gripped the railing of the apartment staircase, breathing shallowly as her heart raced. If she was ever caught here – by her parents, her sisters – she would face reproach… If they knew why she was here, she would be utterly lost.  
The young man who stood behind her put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around, gently. “Why are you fighting this, Andy?” He pulled her closer, capturing her lips with his.  
“Because I’m not who you think I am, Ted.” She dropped one hand to his belt, fingering the clasp. “I want this… but I can’t have it.”

 **Tongue and Cheek**  
“Say, Roddy, you don’t want Tom Riddle to get Dolohov out of Azkaban do you?”  
Rodolphus glanced up at his brother suspiciously. “Why wouldn’t I? Antonin and I went to school together…”  
Rabastan shrugged. “Oh, well, I thought you wanted to marry Bellatrix?”  
“What does that have anything to with anything?”  
Another shrug, a sly look. “Nothing. It’s not like she’s in love with him and if Dolohov gets out he certainly wouldn’t try to get her back before you can put a ring on her. No, no reason to worry at all”  
Rodolphus made a frustrated gesture. “Shut up, Rabby.”

 **Yearning**  
A year. Had it really been only a year since he last saw her? Time is immeasurable in Azkaban; it flies and crawls all at once. He breathes in the smell of her hair and runs his hand along her soft cheek. Her frame fits perfectly into his arms and he wants her. Then and there. He kisses her, deeply, without a single thought, hoping to drown in her. He owed Tom a life debt just for making this single moment possible again.  
“I’ve missed you so much, Bella. Needed you…”  
She buried her face into his robes. “Oh, Tony…” 

**Rise and Shine**  
“Rise and shine, Cissy! Don’t want to be late for your own wedding!”  
Narcissa sat up, rubbing her eyes and squinting from the bright light flooding the room “Bella…must you always be so…”  
“So what?” Bella asked cheerfully, continuing to push open the curtains on the large windows.  
“What time is it?”  
“Time for you become a wife. come on!” She grabbed Narcissa’s hand and dragged her out of bed.  
Narcissa laughed and hugged her sister. “It’s great isn’t it?”  
“Yes,” Bellatrix said softly, hiding her face in her sister’s shoulder so that Narcissa couldn’t see its expression. “It is.”

 **Cold as Ice**  
Antonin had expected it to burn. He had expected the inky lines of the Dark Mark engraved into his skin and soul to burn and sting. Instead, the point of Tom’s wand seemed to be saturating his skin, his whole being, with ice. It was like the ice was seeping deep into his system, into his very blood, coloring it a snowy, numb hue of cold. The cold attached itself in icicles to his nerves, froze every coherent thought. There was a frozen glint to the fresh tattoo on his arm.  
He had knelt one man, he would rise another.

 **Eternal Flame**  
She was waiting for him when he merged from the Marking just as she had promised.  
“ _I’ll be here when you come back a real man.”_  
She stood waiting on the bridge, framed against the sky. But there were no stars, no more moon. Only ominous clouds. She held out her hand to him. “Show me.”  
He rolled up the sleeve of his robes and she gasped in awe. “Tony…”  
He wrapped Bella up in his arms as it began to rain. “My place?”  
Her passionate kiss was his answer. Now that he had _it_ she would always love him.

 **Jealousy**  
“Tony, I…I have something to tell you.”  
“Yes, darling?”  
Bellatrix reached into a pocket of her cloak and took out a delicate golden ring with an elegant diamond and slipped it onto her left ring finger. “Rodolphus and I…we’re engaged, Tony.”  
Antonin flinched and stepped back. Her words had knocked the breath out of him and for a moment, as images of Lestrange with his Bella flooded his imagination, Antonin was sure he would prefer another year with the Dementors rather than this suffocating feeling which threatened to eat away at his heart like acid until there was nothing left. 

**Impossible**  
She looked gorgeous in that white dress.  
Bella looked gorgeous in everything.  
Rudolphus looked positively smug. She was marrying _him_ after all.  
There had been a time, a lifetime ago it seemed, when things were different. Antonin remembered how she would launch herself into his arms in the rain. They would stay up all night talking – about the future, their plans and goals. If he closed his eyes he could still smell her perfume, taste her lips, feel her smooth hair slipping through his fingers.  
But it was impossible for something like that to last.  
He had been too happy

 **Bite the Bullet**  
Edward Parkinson had always prided himself with being a ladies’ man. He’d always considered flattery and flirting to be a natural talent of his. But with her it was different. He’d liked Michele Evermore since sixth year but had never thought to approach her. There was something terrifying about laying his heart bear in front of those deep brown eyes… Now his mother was insisting that he start searching for a bride before “all the pure ones” were taken. Perhaps, he would just have to suck it in and ask her if he didn’t want to end up married to a half blood or a Gryffindor. 

**Blue**  
It was a tradition for pureblood brides to wear a peace of jewelry, typically a ring or a necklace, with their family’s gemstone to their official engagement party where the fiancé would then, at the announcement of the arrangement, replace the necklace or ring with another, containing the gemstone of his family, signifying the bride’s intended switch from her father’s House to that of her husband-to-be.  
Michelle Evermore stood in front of the mirror in her blue evening gown as her sister, Natalie, fastened the sapphire necklace around her neck. Tonight she would switch to the Parkinson stone – Amethyst. 

**Ring**  
Bellatrix sat on the large, four-post bed, waiting for Rodolphus to emerge from the bathroom. She lay back against the pillows, noticing how her silk nightgown matched the silk embroidering on the coverlet. She held her left hand up in front of her face; her wedding ring glinted in the candlelight. Bella was still not use to it. To the ring, to Rodolphus… Sometimes she wished it was— That didn’t matter, not anymore. She was married. Married to a good man of a fine family. It was a comfortable marriage, the _right_ marriage. She would get use to the ring.

 **Off the Hook**  
The two third-year Slytherin boys dashed into one of the dungeon corridors and slumped against a dead-end wall. They could barely see in the dark.  
“We weren’t supposed to get caught,” Evan mumbled.  
“I didn’t think we’d run into that stupid cat?” Avery protested.  
The sudden _lumos_ that lit the corridor in a pale-blue light made both boys jump and swirl. However, instead of seeing Filch, as they\d expected, they were greeted by the smirk of one of their housemates.  
“Snape! What are you doing here?”  
“Questions later, Rosier. Come on, I know a short cut to the common room.”

 **Bend Over Backwards**  
Antonin knew that Igor was nearly fanatical over his laboratory research and experimentation. What he needed most were qualified partners who were willing to work for the Dark Lord. Those sort of people were increasingly hard to find. Antonin also knew, however, that a certain Durmstrang graduate – Ivan Voskrisenski – was willing go to any length imaginable, bend over backwards, turn the world upside down to prove himself as a brilliant scientifically-progressive mind. That was the sort of person they needed. So when Mr. Dolohov approached the eighteen-year-old Ivan with an “offer of a lifetime” there was nothing innocent about it. 

**Axe to Grind**  
“Reg? Can’t we talk about it?”  
Regulus looked up; his older brother stood watching him from the doorway.  
“Haven’t Gryffindors heard of knocking?”  
Sirius sighed. “I didn’t do anything to you, Reg. Why do you hate me all of a sudden? I’m willing to work our problems out if you just talk to me!”  
“Mother says you’re turning into a blood traitor. My friends say that you’re a blood traitor.”  
“That’s what this is all about?”  
The thirteen-year-old Black stood and straightened, tilting his chin up in an aristocratic gesture. “You’re a Pureblood heir, brother. You should act like one.”

 **Everything Else**  
Tom stood in front of a congregation of the Organization. He stood with shoulders back, chest out, hands spread out before him, palms up. “My friends,” he began. “The war is coming. The war that will purge the wizarding world of all that diseases it, of all those who weaken us and do not belong. We’ll have to sacrifice a lot. Our long-indulged plans, our attachments, our comforts, perhaps our freedom or even our lives. But we must always remember why we are here – our cause. The Cause, my friends, must stand above everything else if we are to win.”


	2. Start of the First War

**Heat Of The Moment**  
Antonin could never say when the turning point had come, when he had lost all control. When had he made his decision? Was it back in school when he had fallen in love with Bella? Had it been in the moment when he had said his first "Avada Kedavra" to save his sister? Or maybe after that dreadful, undeserved year in Azkaban? Even later?  
That was something he never figured out. All Antonin knew was that somewhere along the way, in the heat of youth's whirlwind he had made a choice after which all other choices were made for him.

 **No Turning Back**  
Adolphus Crabbe and Fabian Goyle didn’t quite know what Yaxley was getting them into. Riddle’s Organization was only half-legal, that was for certain. But both men were of the sort that have little talent for greatness yet are drawn to it.  
“Oh, it’s really just a formality,” Yaxley had told them before the Marking.  
“I hear that once you’re in, there’s no way back,” Crabbe had said, uncertainly.  
“Don’t be fools,” Yaxley replied tersely. “Think! of your heirs – they’ll be known as the sons of two of the Wizarding World’s most honorable families. What else could you ask for?”

 **Probable**  
“It could happen!”  
“Not a chance, little brother.”  
“Ruddy, give the boy a chance once in a while, you’ll discourage him otherwise and what good is that?” Lucius drawled, watching as the two Lestrange brothers circled each other in the center of the training room, wands drawn.  
“I give him one chance, he’ll want them all,” Rudolphus muttered. “But if you insist…”  
“I don’t want him to go easy on me!” Rabastan pouted, swishing his want to throw a curse. Rudolphus deflected it easily.  
“See?” he laughed.  
Rabastan’s pout became a childishly offended frown. “I just said it was possible…”

 **Haunting**   
After the war began, Antonin rarely went home. He spent most of his time at Headquarters and had secured rooms there. When he did need to go home, it was always with the same nostalgic, sinking feeling. It was the house he had grown up in, the yard which he, Augustus, Igor, and Lucius had flown around when they were young teens, the porch on which he would often have tea with his parents and sister in the summer. Every time he went home, the haunting echoes of the past jumped out at him, opening old wounds, possessing his soul. 

**Back Seat Driver**  
Bellatrix had always considered herself competent in what she did and hated being treated as a child or someone always needing guidance. Regardless of the fact that the wizarding world was mainly patriarchal. Therefore, she abhorred those mission – and there were several of the sort throughout her early career – where she would have to wear a charmed earring through which she would receive “instruction” throughout her mission. When it was the Lord himself – which only happened once -- she didn’t mind. Even Antonin’s instruction wasn’t irksome. But Malfoy! Her brother-in-law really new how to take the joy out of everything…

 **Gaze**  
Thorffin Rowle had always been the quite boy at school. No one bullied him because of his large built but he knew that his blood was tainted in the eyes of many would-be friends because of his Giant ancestry. Rowle had no extraordinary abilities or family status. No one expected much of him. Therefore, it had been a shock when a month after graduation – the war was already in full swing – Antonin Dolohov showed up and appraising him with a firm but amiable gaze said. “Come with me, Fin. You want to be someone don’t you? We can do that.” 

**Knock on Wood**  
Theodore arrived at the lab mid-experiment. He was greeted by one of Karkaroff’s harassed-looking assistance who led his through to the observing platform where the Head of Laboratory Staff presided over some eerie ritual.  
“Mulciber, I thought you’d forgotten.”  
“Sorry, Igor, had an errand for the Lord. How far in are we?”  
“The boys have completed the pentagon; I will have to step in soon.”  
Theodore traced his wand through the air causing particles to sparked and glow. “So far so good.”  
Karkaroff grimaced. “Go nock on something wooden before you mess everything up.”  
Mulciber smirked. “You and your superstitions.”

 **Reasonable**  
“Be reasonable, Jack!”  
Avery folded his arms and gave his friend an exasperated look. “Be reasonable, Jack.” He echoed mockingly. “Everything’s reasonable with you, Snape. Don’t you ever have fun?”  
“Yes! But…if we get caught do you have any idea how long we’ll be stuck in detention for? Is this little mudblood really worth it?”  
“The mudblood isn’t but the good laugh is! Won’t you two back me up?” Avery looked back at Rosier and Anatole.  
Rosier smiled broadly. “Oh, come on, Sev, Jack’s right. What’s the point of all the “training” if we never use it?”  
Snape nodded grudgingly.

 **What Matters Most**  
“She hates me now,” Snape sulked, crushing his spannati roots for the potion they were to make with a force that was rather excessive.  
“Who?” Avery asked.  
“Lily.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I called her mudblood. She won’t forgive me. I asked her again, and again…she won’t listen.”  
Evan shook his head. “Come on, Sev, it’s not the end of the world.”  
“You know how I feel about her,” he growled. “What does she want me to do?”  
“She wants you give up,” Evan said seriously. “Give up on what matters most.”  
“And what’s that?”  
“The Cause.”  
Snape looked unconvinced.  
“Our friendship.”

 **Murmuring**  
The murmuring of the water was soothing as it ran down the marble figure and into the small pool at the bottom. The cool drops of liquid azure slid over her skin as she touched the water. She saw her reflection in the fountain, green eyes and auburn hair. The quiet murmurs of the water lulled her into believing that the world was still beautiful and she wasn’t living with self-inflicted pain and regret.   
A rustling in the grove behind her and a shadow slipping away made her look up. “Severus?” No answer. Lily didn’t know why she expected one. 

**No Solid Ground**  
Rookwood knew better than anyone that without making over the Ministry the Organization was constantly on precarious ground. Often, after some unsuccessful operation or political maneuvering, Lucius, Rodolphus, Augustus, and Antonin would gather in the parlor of Malfoy Manor and talk tactics over red wine and Swiss cheese. In such company, the conversation often turned to the political side of the war that began to seriously suffer since the mid-70s in favor of terror-inclined warfare. The general consensus during these informal meetings was that they needed to take control of the Ministry if they ever wanted to stabilize their progress.

 **No Backing Down**  
The four of them stood in a tight circle, facing out into the windswept county-side. Augustus made several arches with his wand, frowning worriedly.  
“Too much disturbance, I can’t tell if they’re coming.”  
“They will.”  
“It’s been an hour,” Lucius tried to reason. “Besides, how do we know they will come by broom?”  
“Port key is too inaccurate here and we’ve blocked apparition.”  
“What if they break out shield?” Rodolphus sounded panicked. “This is a stupid idea, Tony.”  
“Listen, Lestrange, do you want to show up to base empty handed? Have fun explaining to Rabastan why you’re such a coward.”

 **Restrained**  
“What should we do with them?” Andre turned to his companions, nodding at the three restrained aurors. Antonin looked around the barren landscape. “We can’t interrogate them here, we need a secure location.”  
“Do you think they even know anything?” Rodophus asked, watching the female fumbling around with the restraints stealthily.  
While Karkaroff and Rosier debated the subject, Rodolphus watched the woman as she fumbled around. He caught the moment something akin to an idea flashed in her eyes so when she began whisper to her companions Rodolphus was ready. “Avada Kedavra.”  
“Rodophus what--?” Igor sputtered.   
“To avoid accidents.” 

**Steps**  
Footsteps. Hurried footsteps in the hall outside. They were here to confirm what he had felt. His cabinet. His most loyal.  
Lord Voldemort waved his wand, swinging he chamber door open and turned to face the seven Death Eaters.  
Mulciber and Karkaroff stood to the far right, Malfoy and Lestrange to the far left. So…this was no investigatory matte nor was it political. Rookwood, Dolohov and Rosier took the center. Bellatrix was not among them. So then there was cleaning up to be done.  
“Report.”  
Dolohov took a step forward. “My Lord.” A triumphant pause. “The Liverpool aurors have fallen.”

 **Truth**  
Truth tends to be an objective thing, an absolute. Yet it merely _tends_. There are times when everyone has their own truth, their own Cause. What one side may call lies and idiocy, the other holds up as the holly Right.  
Social cleansing and revolution had never been easily won or easily accepted. There were always two sides in these cases, two rivers of blood, two truths, nether one more tainted than the other for both were destructive, it simply depended on what side one took.  
Augustus had always believed that. He had always believed in the sacredness of their Cause. His truth was the salvation of his world from the disease that permeated it.

 **A Little Bit of This**  
“What’s wrong with him?” Ashley asked, looking down at his best friend, Angelus Wilkes, who lay on one of the med-beds in a curse-induced stupor.  
Mulciber didn’t answer his brother as he fussed with a number of potions in a med-case. He peered into Wilkes’ eyes, considering the dilated pupils before dosing out several potions into a syringe.  
“Theodore, what did they hit him with? Will he be alright?”  
“It’s a customized _Stupefy_ , who ever came up with it though they were mighty clever. Don’t worry; a little bit of this, and he’ll be back to normal in an hour.”

 **Whispering**  
With the dorm room door firmly shut, three seventh-year, Slytherin boys sat on the floor in the dark, heads together, whispering excitedly.   
“I’m sure we’ll be marked this summer,” Evan was saying. “After all, what will there be to wait for after we graduate?”   
“About time,” Severus muttered.   
“I hear Bonfante’s already marked,” Avery piped up. “Regulus too.”   
“That’s because Black has a cousin in a high place in the Organization,” Snape drawled.   
“Anatole doesn’t…”   
“Yea, but Andre told me he’s in favor there; Dolohov’s protégé.”   
Snape made a face. He didn’t get along very well with their commanding officer… 

**Resolved**  
Spats between Rodolphus and Antonin were fairly rare; both were willing to act professionally if nothing else around each other in all situations. But there was no denying that Rodolphus wanted to take command of an increasing amount of missions and this was the very thing that seemed to frustrate and irritate Antonin the most. “He’s a politician, not a fighter! Now is not the time to experiment!” Antonin would often complain to an uncomfortable-looking Lucius, who had no desire of getting in the middle of his friends’ spats. Despite that, very few Lestrange-Dolohov clashes were resolved without Malfoy’s involvement. 

**Stride**  
Andre Rosier, Chief of Prisoner Interrogation, crossed the dank dungeon anti-chamber in three large strides. Antonin noticed that Rosier had developed his striding manner only after acquiring that particular position in the Lord’s cabinet. Andre stopped at the far wall by Antonin’s shoulder, then paced back toward the door at the other side in those same frustrated strides.  
“What are you thinking?”  
Rosier stopped, turning. “I can’t get anything out of her.”  
“Is she an Oc—?“  
“No. No shields. She’s a child for Salazar’s sake! What could she know?”  
Antonin offered Rosier a smoke. “Orders aren’t always for understanding.”

 **Stumble**  
When a drunk Andre Rosier came stumbling into his chambers at three in the morning, Theodore Mulciber instantly knew that something was wrong. “Andy! What’re you doing?”  
Andre, ignoring his friend’s surprise, slumped on the floor by the fireplace and dropped his head in his hands. “I’ve been at it for hours. She doesn’t know anything!”  
“Who?”  
“Girl. From raid.”  
“Have you told the Lord?”  
“Tried. He insists she knows. He’s threatened…”  
Theodore went to sit next to his friend. “To what?”  
“Make Evan lead the next raid if I fail to find it all out. Ev’s not ready…he’ll fail.”

 **Saint**  
Antonin held his wand in a death grip as he circled Auror Alexei Bulgakov. All the senses of his body were strained and alert, even his skin seemed to tingle and itch with the expectation of an attack.  
“Always knew you’d end up a miscreant, Dolohov,” Bulgakov jibed. “Just like your Slytherin cronies.”  
Antonin snorted. “Do all Gryffindor’s become self-righteous, obnoxious aurors, or are you an exception?”  
Bulgakov bristled. “Gryffindors are defenders! Gryffindors are brave and valiant and righteous and—“  
“Exceptional brash, thoughtless, stupid, and sanctimonious.”  
Bulgakov scoffed. “Everyone has faults, but compared to a Slytherin anyone’s a saint!”

 **Sinner**  
The Auror and Death Eater continued their circling, the tips of their wants sparking with constrained magic.  
“You speak of ideals, Bulgakov, yet you betray your own pure blood. You speak of ideas and yet your department is infested with corruption. Your kind are only too willing to torture _children_ for information.”  
“Outrageous!”  
“It was _auror_ who tortured my sister to death! She was _fifteen_. And it was the auror-controlled Wizengomot that put me in Azkaban for _defending_ her!”  
“Enough!”  
Bulgakov threw the first curse – an _Encearo_. Antonin deflected it – “We’re all sinners. Accept it” – and answered with a _Crucio_.


	3. Height Of War

**When You're Lost**  
Angelus found Ashley in one of the sidelong corridors of the base. Mulciber sat with his knees pulled up, cradling a bottle of firewhiskey. The last raid had discombobulated Ashley. Angelus understood part of his friend’s discomfort. Compared to other fresh recruits they seemed to lack enthusiasm and think skin. Ashley also had his older brother’s expectations to live up to.  
“Sulking, Ash?”  
“Go away, Wilkes. I’m thinking.”  
“About?”  
He sighed. “I don’t belong here, Angel. I don’t feel like I belong.”  
“You don’t believe in the Cause?”  
“I do, though, see? But I hate killing. Even if its mudbloods.”

 **Leap**  
“Jump!”  
“I can’t”  
The boy stood on the edge of the stone wall, looking with wide, incredulous eyes at the older wizard who, atop a very young dragon, was holding a hand out to him.  
“We have to go! I can’t fly her higher, she’s too young. Jump to me!”  
The boy shook his head. There had to be at least twenty feet between them.  
The aurors were coming. He had to jump now or be taken and risk everyone else, the whole operation.  
“Trust me, Anatole!”  
The boy shut his eyes and leaped down to Dolohov and, ultimately, safety.

 **Best Friends**  
Severus swore as the tube with the corrosive potion fell, shattering on the floor. The corrosive vapor began to eat at his flesh as he fumbled for his wand.  
“ _Evanesco_!”  
The thick cloud cleared to reveal Evan who was already striding toward him, casting healing charms. Snape sank half-willingly into Rosier’s steadying embrace. “When was the last time you slept, Sev?”  
“None of your business.”  
Evan frowned. “Given that you could kill yourself, it is.”  
“As though you’d miss me,” Severus muttered bitterly.  
“How dare you!” Evan sounded hurt. “You’re my best friend…I’d go crazy if something happened to you

 **Vexation**  
Igor was not happy. The new laboratory recruits were too young, too inexperienced. There was no use in Dark Magic scientists who could not get out of an experiment suddenly gone wrong. All of a sudden he had turned from scientists to teacher and that didn’t suit Karkaroff.  
“We’re wasting time,” he once complained to Mulciber. “I really need you around the lab these days.”  
Theodore laughed. “As though I have time. Once Snape finishes his medical orientation year, maybe then, but for now the whole medical department is on my shoulders and not just on paper.”  
“It’s just frustrating.”

 **Hold Back the Darkness**  
The _Dementia_ had come out of nowhere. A streak of crimson thrown hard but without a particular target, at least so it seemed in the chaos of battle. Antonin had a half second to respond. His hastily cast _Protago_ was comparatively week and the remnants of the curse hit him in the chest, knocking him halfway off his broom. Tony fought the darkness that began to envelope him from the edges of his vision. He dived, hoping to win time by getting momentarily lost in the night mist, trying to regain composure and purge the dark magic from his system.

 **Take a Stand**  
“Pull back, we have to regroup!” shouted Andre, making retreating signals. The Death Eaters pulled back, casting disillusionment charms and counting on their black cloaks to blend with the dark sky.  
“Where’s Dolohov?” Rodolphus questioned tersely.  
“I saw him get hit by something,” Lucius reported, looking concerned.  
Augustus and Bella exchanged looks. “We’ll do a scan,” Rookwood offered.  
“Don’t break ranks!” Rodolphus hissed, glaring at his wife. “We have a job to do around here.”  
“Roddy, we’re outnumbered,” Lucius started. “Somehow they knew…”  
Bella’s eyes began to glow dangerously. “Then we’ll just have to fight twice as hard! Forward, purebloods!”

 **Superficial**  
The wound was superficial. Snape had told him probably a hundred times now with increasing irritation. But Tony was still worried. There was something wrong, something about how the boy clutched at his House scarf, the way he looked like a terrorized house elf.  
Once Snape left, Tony could talk more freely to his protégé. “It’s a surface wound, Anatole, you don’t have to look so terrified.”  
“Sorry,” the boy murmured, looking away. The brave front he put up around everyone else was now gone and Bonfante looked like the vulnerable child he was. “Are you disappointed in me?”  
“No. Never.”

 **Fall**  
Ashley Mulciber was no stranger to the Death Eaters, since his older brother, Theodore, was one. Never had he doubted The Cause. Never, until that night.  
He and Wilkes were paired in the raid with Alexander and William Tallis. The air raid, conducted on brooms, lasted a single exhausting hour. On their way back they had been ambushed by a few strangler flyers one of whom managed to hit William with a curse that knocked him off his broom. Although the ambush had barely forced them to break ranks, no one but Alex made an attempt to catch Will’s fall.

 **Not For Nothing**  
Eleanor. Black dress, accusing eyes. Tony would never forget how she looked the night her brother died. Even worse – he felt responsible.  
“Tell me, Monsieur Dolohov, was it worth it? Was my brother’s life worth it?”  
“Eleanor…you must understand. Anatole fought for a cause. We are all fighting. We all could die…”  
“Do you believe it’s a cause dying for?”  
“Yes. And so did your brother. His death was not in vain. We need brave boys like him. One day, when the wizarding world is finally free, you will see that he did not die for nothing. I promise you.”

 **Echoing**   
The lone steps echoing down the empty corridor are a measured staccato. Antonin doesn’t bother to take out his wand, he knows its Alecto. He almost expected her brother; Amycus hadn’t been very friendly lately and a confrontation wasn’t completely out of the question. In the dim light, he almost can’t see her face but her form is familiar and so is the slightly nervous bobbing of her head.   
“You wanted to see me?” he asks, his voice echoing as her footsteps had/   
“I’ve needed to tell you…I’ve always loved you—“   
“Don’t. I’m not the man I once was.” 

**Forever**  
Forever. Such and impossible, dangerous word. Nothing is forever. Everything is destructible – even the sun, even the strongest enchantment or curse. There is no such thing as a love or a commitment that lasts forever. A lifetime perhaps, but not forever. Of course, things are different in youth. Life seems never ending, there’s no limit to anything. Everything is only beginning not ending.   
When Antonin looks at the assortment of Hogwarts and early Organization photographs, he thinks that at seventeen or eighteen it’s easy to believe that all that is needed for something to last forever is a little faith. 

**Defined**  
The formula had been defined the night before in some haze of overworked epiphany. All Karkaroff remembered was everything falling into place a couple of hours after Snape had joined him and Ivan in the lab. Maybe they should have asked him to help earlier…   
Walking into the lab the next morning, Igor found a rather downcast Ivan standing beside a table where Snape had spread out various notes, potion flasks, and an assortment of unpleasant-looking insects. “What’s he doing?”  
Ivan huffed. “Apparently, the damn perfectionist wants to define every parameter of the formula and test them before we resume.”

 **Black**  
Black cloaks. Black night sky. Black, ghastly tombstones. Black magic that hums in the air, thick enough to touch, leaving a metallic taste in the caster’s mouth. Black pedestal within the perfect circle, magically drawn on the ground with coal. The Dark Lord presides on the pedestal, surrounded by his followers, all of whom are being led in the necromantic ritual by Karkaroff and Voskrisenski. Riddle, as the heir of Slytherin, is the centerpiece, channeling hi Blood Power into the black whole opening up within the circle. This is the Labs most ambitious project yet – summoning the Spirit of Slytherin. 

**Maybe**  
Fabian Goyle’s son, Gregory, was born in November of 1979. Adolphus and Christina Crabbe were the Goyle heir’s godparents. The two families were very close, and when Vincent was born that December, the Goyles were given the same honor. Maybe the reason why the two families were so close was because they had a bad “habit” of being in constant debt to the Malfoys who liked to lord themselves over other families. Fabian hoped that maybe Gregory would be able to break that tradition, to become his own person, independent of the Malfoys. There were many hopes for the future…

 **Martyr**  
Regulus Black had always been an idealist. Fed pureblood dogma from a young age, Regulus had joined Voldemort with the utmost enthusiasm, seeking to prove himself to be worthy of his name and blood. Yet, Regulus didn’t have the stomach to be a Death Eater. His very first raid was a miserable disaster. When Regulus turned on Voldemort he knew he would die but he was willing to face death, willing to suffer because he was doing so for a cause. A different one, albeit, but that didn’t matter. In the end he got to play the hero, the martyr.

 **Trust**  
The worst thing was that they trusted him.  
It physically hurt to arrive at the Rosiers’ that evening by port key and stand watching Evan and Jack play cards. He wondered what they would say if they knew that he was now on the other side – their enemy.  
“Sev! How did you get in so quietly? Come play with us.” Evan waved him over and Snape forced himself to step into the light of the fireplace. He almost expected Evan to see right through him, to cry out in horror. But neither of them noticed a thing.  
They trusted him.

 **Love**  
Lucius watched her as she walked by the lake with their newborn son. Draco was so little and…pink and she so beautiful.  
Love was not always the reason for a pureblood marriage. Marriages were more often based on rank and purity of blood than anything else.  
Lucius considered himself lucky. He was able to marry the woman he loved. His beautiful Narcissa – once his dream – was now his wife and she had born him an heir.  
As he watched his wife and son by the lake, Lucius swore to protect them by any means. Because he loved them more than anything.

 **Antagonists**  
“He’s coming with us. That’s final,” Lucius declared calmly.  
Antonin threw his hands in the air with a frustrated huff. “Really, Malfoy, where is you common sense?”  
Lucius glared at his friend. “Tony, I _trust_ Severus.”  
“More than you trust me?”  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You know I trust you with my life.”  
“Well I _don’t_ trust Snape. There’s something shady about that boy. ”  
Lucius smirked. “Just because he doesn’t look at you with rapturous awe like Evan…”  
Antonin glared at him. “Alright, I don’t enjoy his sarcastic impudence but it’s more than that. He’s not a safe bet.”

 **Necklace**  
Narcissa fingered the elaborate diamond necklace as Lucius put it reverently around her neck. She wore a low cut, black evening gown that flowed elegantly down her frame. The Malfoy’s were hosting their first ball for the Organization. The Lord himself would be attending. Narcissa was nervous – this was the first ball _she_ would host. In her maidenhood, her mother was the hostess and after her marriage to Lucius she was the “new bride” and the responsibly was Lucius’. But now that Draco was born she was neither maid nor bride, but woman and wife… The responsibility was hers now.

 **No One to Trust**  
It was only once he switched sides that Snape realized what price he had paid for the _possibility_ of Lily’s safety.  
He uses to have friends. Good friends. He had betrayed them. He couldn’t trust Evan with _everything_ now for the painfully obvious reasons and it was a lonely feeling. Yet, he couldn’t trust anyone from the Order either. He felt incapable of fraternizing with those he had meant to kill a mere few weeks – days – ago. He had now simply lost all possibility for trust. There was no one left. His friends were now his enemies; his enemies – allies.

 **Brown**  
Peter’s brown robes blended with the dark autumn wood – dank and dark, not yet covered with snow. Pettigrew made his way to the rendezvoused with skulking steps. He had gone most of the way as a rat but figured this was now “safe” territory. Peter didn’t know why he had been sorted into Gryffindor, he wasn’t brave and this betrayal wasn’t noble. But they had asked for this. James and Lily. Sirius and Remus. No room for awkward, untalented Peter. Nothing to hold on to…  
Sloshing through mud to the Death Eater outpost, Peter hopped to find somewhere to belong.


	4. The Dark Lord's Fall

**Watch**  
Eleanor couldn’t stop watching the small silver watch in her hand. Five minutes after midnight. Antonin and Lucius should have been here twenty minutes ago. The subtle _pop_ of an apparition made Eleanor turn around sharply, reaching for her wand. Instead of the men, it Michele Parkinson who was approaching her at a half-run.  
“Ella! You have to leave,” Michele whispered vehemently on reaching her.  
“Leave! Where? Why? Where’re Antonin and Lucius?”  
“The Lord has disappeared, everything’s at standstill. Antonin’s mobilizing and warning everyone he can. Lucius is with his family. They sent me to you. We fear the worst.”

 **Red**  
“Angel! Angel, wake up!” Ashley was hysterical. He and Wilkes had been trapped by an aurors unit. They probably wouldn’t have gotten out if his brother hadn’t showed up with Rabastan and broken the anti-apparition wards. Angelus had been hit with something akin to _sectumsempra_ and there were now long, deep gashes crossing his torso, his undershirt soaked through with bright-red blood.   
Theodore’s hand felt hot on his shoulder. “We have to go, Ash. Before they track us.”  
“I can’t leave Angel.” Red on Angel’s face and clothes, on the ground, on Ashley’s hands…  
“There’s nothing you can do. Come.” 

**Eternity**  
The blues of the sky darkened and condensed, becoming a deep purple that blackened over the minutes. There was eternity up there somewhere. Somewhere far beyond the stars there was so much space, emptiness, nothingness, that eternity materialized and became an actually substance.   
Ashley could swear he felt the touch of that substance, that eternity of nothingness. Theodore said that was what people sometimes feel when someone they love dies, like a peace of the Otherworld materializing for a moment in the Living world to reach out and touch the bereft. That touch leaves a never-leaving mark on the soul. 

**No Place to Hide**  
Narcissa held the sleeping baby boy in her arms as Lucius paced the small tavern room.  
“What are we going to do?” she asked, watching her husband with frightened eyes.  
“We should go back home,” Lucius told her finally.  
“What! Do you want to go to Azcaban like the rest of your friends? What will become of us?” She was almost screaming, almost hysterical. Almost.  
“Stop. You’ll wake Draco… Cissy…” he knelt before her, taking one of her hands into both of his. “There’s no where we can go. They’ll find us. I have a plan… it’s the only way.”

 **Definite**  
“There use to be a time – a very long time ago – when the only worries anyone had were of some small inconspicuous, inconsequential matter. We were so sure in all we did. We did not fear the war, we did not fear anything because we were young and foolish. Because we were so sure that what we were fighting for was the Right Cause and therefore we could not lose by definition. How childishly idealistic we were…”  
Evan Rosier pauses and looks into the fire.  
“Back then, everything was definite. Back then…nothing was lost and we had all the answers.”

 **Unlikely**  
It was unlikely that he would survive this.  
Evan gripped his wand, hidden under his cloak, with a savage desperation.  
“Evan…Ev…Rosier!”  
Evan turned to see Snape glaring at him from a shadowed corner of the room.  
“Not now, Sev.” He turned back to window, watching the rain fall, beating steadily against the jutting windowsill.  
“Don’t do it, Evan. It’s ridiculous…dangerous…you’ll—“  
“Die? Yes, I know. But what do you suggest I do? Just sit here and wait until they find me and ship me off to Azkaban like they did with the Lestranges and…everyone else? No...I’d rather go down fighting.”

 **Nowhere to Run**  
Evan stumbled into the shabby alleyway, tripping over wet, uneven cobblestone and threw himself into a dark niche. His head hurt and he was sure that more than just rainwater was making his hair clump and fall over his eyes. He squinted at the portkey lockets around his neck and suppressed a sob. He wouldn’t dare use Tony’s… He felt ashamed of admitting to his mentor how rashly he had acted. The other – Snape’s. But he had made a vow that he would not drag his friend into this.  
The aurors were coming.  
He might have to fight after all

 **There's Only Us**  
They met in a small forested area at sundown. It wasn’t an accident but not a certainty until they were standing face-to-face, hand-in-hand.  
“Who’s left?” Antonin asked bluntly.  
Bella shook her head. “My husband and his brother. That’s all I know of.”  
“Lucius?”  
“You know Malfoy.”  
Antonin nodded. Lucius was bound to weasel his way out. He didn’t count. “Igor’s with me.”  
“Evan Rosier?”  
“Dead.”  
“There’s only us five then.” The rays of the dying sun hit her face through the trees and for a moment, Antonin felt seventeen again.  
Then dusk came and with it – reality. “There’s only us.”

 **Controlled**  
In the end it was always every man for himself. When the end came there were choices to be made. Some went into hiding, others found a fight to the death. The less well known were able to keep a low profile and not become targets. There was also Lucius Malfoy’s way: repent everything and claimed to have been under the Imperius course.   
Jack Avery had never considered Malfoy’s way until the aurors caught up with him. Then all that remained was fear. Fear controlled his mind, body, every ounce of sanity. And he betrayed everything he’d every stood for. 

**Honor**  
The thing that Igor admired most about Antonin was his sense of honor. Something that was passed on to him from his Russian courtier ancestors. Or maybe it was a quality that Tony simply had with no explanation to it other that he was an honorable man by nature. Duty, bravery, loyalty, integrity, decency – all ideals that Antonin embodied.  
Igor wasn’t like that. He was far more cowardly and egotistic. He had a low tolerance for discomfort and no moral code could sustain him.  
Antonin was the man Igor admired the most. He was also the first man Karkaroff betrayed.

 **Never**  
There is one thing that Purebloods never do: give up. No matter what odds they face, Purebloods will never back down from their ultimate goal, they may retreat into the shadows for a while or concede a certain position, but they will never stop working toward their desired ends. Lucius had always known that Voldemort would come back, they all believed that. But Lucius had a wife unlike many of the younger lot, and his wife wasn’t a Death Eater, unlike Roddy’s. He had a son, an heir. Malfoy would have to lie in wait. But he never stopped believing.


	5. Between Wars

**Killer**  
Walden McNair didn’t know why but somehow he always ended up as the brutal executioner. In school he was one of the larger boys in his year and therefore was typically manipulated by friends into beating up some annoying Gryffindor. His father had introduced him to muggle weapons, such as axes, which Walden developed an interest in, despite his mother’s horror. During Voldemort’s reign he was often sent out to do the dirtier, “hands-on” work that the likes of Malfoy shirked. Killing had become such an everyday thing that the already somewhat brutish Walden became more than accustomed to it.

 **Loyalty**  
“You did…what?”  
“Lucius, please…don’t look at me like that.”  
“Don’t look at you like that? How am I supposed to look at you! After what you did…I thought I knew where your loyalty lay, Severus. I felt something had changed but to reveal my suspicions would have been too costly to you so I kept my mouth shut because my loyalty lay with you…Are you happy now? Are you happy that we’ve lost? That Evan’s dead? That Tony and Bella are in Azkaban? Tell me!”  
“No!”  
“Then why—“  
“Because my loyalty always lay with Lily Evans. You knew that.”

 **Filial**  
Draco loved his daddy. Of course, most little boys love and admire their fathers but Draco liked to think that he was the best at it. He wanted to be just like his father. When he grew up he would be an important person in the ministry, he would be head of his pure-blood family, everyone would admire and obey him just like they admired and obeyed his father. He would be just as smart and glamorous.  
And he would always adhere to those ideals that his father so patiently imparted to him in from of the drawing room fireplace.

 **Without a Doubt**  
Theodore Nott sat on his trunk, packed for his first year at Hogwarts, staring out the window at the raindrops running down the window.   
“Time for bed, Theodore.”  
The boy turned to face his father. “I’m not sleepy, Papa. I’m…nervous.”  
“About school?”  
“Yea…I don’t know many people my age and…” Shrug.  
“You’ll make more friends once you’re there. You’re growing into a wonderful young wizard. Your mother would be proud.”  
“What if I’m not in Slytherin? Would Mother still be proud?”   
“Without a doubt. Your mother loved you and she would’ve been proud, no matter what House you’re sorted into.”

 **Break the Ice**  
Talking to cute boys is difficult but very necessary for a young lady of 12, Pansy had decided. She had told her friends this many times but could not serve as a good example, to her own embarrassment. But really! It wasn’t her fault that Draco Malfoy was so snide and un-responsive to female attentions. They had walked around each other in circles last night in the common room and he had thrown his head back and she had fluttered her eyelashes but neither of them had found anything to say to break the ice. Why were boys so difficult?

 **Always**  
Every time the Dark Mark become a little darker, Thorfinn always thought of the same thing: coming back to England, finishing what they started in the first war, and getting Tony out of Azkaban. Rowle always felt like he owed a lot to Dolohov for giving him a chance to be someone. After the Lord fell, Fin had gone to France and then Italy. He had not been in the Organization prior to the war nor was he very notable and nobody bothered to look for him. Now he had a duty to his comrades – getting them out of prison. 

**Godfather and Godson**  
“I don’t get it!” Draco slammed the potions book down on the table with an exasperated huff. He looked up, meeting a set of beady black eyes that considered him with disapproval. “I really don’t, Uncle Sev,” Draco sighed.  
Snape swooped out of his dark corner and approached the teen. “How do you expect to pass your potions OWL, Draco, if you still can’t understand a difference so elementary?”  
Draco glared at him. “Father said you were here to help me.”  
Snape smirked. “You believed such a notion?”  
The boy’s glare turned into a pout. “Well you are my godfather.”


	6. The Second War

**Lingering**   
“Don’t go.”  
“Pansy.”  
“Draco.”  
It was useless to argue with her, she wouldn’t back down until she knew. “Look, it’s my mission, my job; I have to get it done.”  
“But what is it that you have to do?” She shivered; the old feeling of foreboding was back.  
“You’ll find out before daybreak.” Draco leaned in, capturing her mouth with his lips. A second, another, and then he was gone, torn away from her and melted into the darkness of the hallway. Pansy reached up and touched her mouth lightly. Her lips tingled, his goodbye kiss lingering in the darkness. 

**Partners**  
“Rowle…wake up. Come on, Fin...” Antonin considered a reviving spell but decided that the effects of a prolonged Crusiutus might not combine well with _Innervate_. Where were Mulciber and Snape when needed? If Antonin hadn’t been so relieved at not being the target of Voldemort’s anger he would have felt guilty for not taking his half of the blame for their failure to capture Potter. Perhaps that was why he came back to find his partner while everyone else kept their distance.  
Rowle came to consciousness slowly and stared up at Antonin with confusion. “I’m sorry, Fin…” Tony managed hoarsely.

 **Wanting**  
It’s late and Pansy knows she should home by now. But something is keeping her at Headquarters. She waves her wand and brings to her a miniature of Hogwarts.  
“What’re you planning to do with that, Ms. Parkinson?” Dolohov’s voice makes her turn, one hand going to her heart unconsciously.  
“Nothing.” She blushes and looks away. Antonin had become more to her in these past few months than she could have imagined. He was her commander, her inspiration… Now every time she sees him she wants to… Pansy blushes even more and before Dolohov can say another word, apparates home. 

**Addiction**  
Pansy didn’t understand how it had happened but she was addicted. Addicted to the war –- Unfrorgivables, midnight flights and raids, Dolohov’s orders shouted through the din of battle, black cloaks and midnight meetings, Headquarters, firewiskey. Addicted to pain – crying because she was scared for herself, her family, Draco, Mr. Dolohov, nothing making sense, Draco never being around anymore because he was too busy playing war hero. Addicted to the silence – secrets, alibis, the suspiciousness of everything and everyone, empty rooms, funerals and prison sentences of friends, dark corners, black roses, fear, imagined independence. Pansy was addicted to the Darkness.


	7. The Next Generation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cato is the son of Theodore Nott and Daphne Grengrass. Bonavento is the son of Gregory Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode. Gidon is the son of Marcus Flint and Flora Carrow (Amycus and Alecto's neice once removed). Anna and Amiri are the daughter and son of Pansy Parkinson and Andre Rosier's son. Ayer and Keith are the sons of Jack Avery's and Augustus Rookwood's sons respectively. Anthony is also related to one of the Death Eaters, but he doesn't know about it yet.

**Possession**  
“I’m not your property! You have no right!”  
“You are my wife!”  
“Not yet. I am your bride and I have no intention of watching you take a mistress before we even make our vows…” Astoria breaks down and drops into an armchair, covering her face with her hands so that her fiancée wouldn’t see the tears building up in her eyes. Draco crosses the drawing room, kneels before her and peals her hands from her face. “I’m just a trophy wife to you aren’t I?” She asks quietly. “Just a…possession.”  
“No,” he answers just as quietly. “Not a possession.”

 **Next Generation (2017)**  
“Malfoy, Scorpius.”  
A blonde boy came out of the cue of first years and walked to the stool with the sorting hat. Unlike most of the other first years, his countenance and manner were confident and calm, without a trace of anxiety.  
“Slytherin!” the hat declared with almost no hesitation. Scorpius stood and proudly made his way to the Slytherin table were he sat between Bonavento Goyle and Gidon Flint.  
“Hey, Malfoy made Slytherin, what else is new?”  
“Shut up, Gidon!”  
“Do you think Cato…?”  
“Nott? Are you kidding me? He’s got to; his family’s been in Slytherin for ages.” 

**Pureblood**  
Cato Nott did make Slytherin. As did, to Scorpius’ pleasure, Anna Rosier. Disappointingly, she chose to sit next to a boy named Anthony rather than him. “Scared of me Annie?”  
“Leave her alone, Malfoy,” Anthony piped up.  
Scorpius attempted to imitate his father’s disdainful expression. “What are you, her boyfriend now? Are you even a pureblood?”  
The boy threw his chin up, “Yes.”  
“I’ve never heard of a Deschain family,” Anna mused.  
“We moved from Russia.”  
“Deschain isn’t a Russian surname, it’s not even Slavic,” Cato put in.  
Anthony shrugged. He would be sixteen before he knew his true heritage. 

**Ravenclaw and Slytherin (2020)**  
Lysander and Lorcan Scamander had been very close during their childhood. They were twins and looked very much alike. The only difference between the two was that Lorcan took heavily after their parents and tended to enjoy books, quite moments, and Luna’s stories about different magical oddities she encountered. Lysander was more active, better on a broom, and unable to wait to get his hands on a wand. With both of their parents from Ravenclaw both boys were almost certain that they would end up in that House. Lorcan was put into Ravenclaw but Lysander was placed promptly into Slytherin. 

**Welcome to Slytherin**  
“Siblings aren’t usually separated. especially twins.” Ayer Avery commented as one of the Scamander boys came trudging up to their table.  
“I met him on the train, he seems alright,” Amiri put in.  
“Everyone’s alright for you, Rosier,” Rookwood laughed.  
Annabelle Montague scooted over to make space for Lysander for he obviously looked a little unsure as to where to sit. “He’s going to be in our year,” she hissed at the boys. “We should be nice to him.” She turned to Lysander. “Hi. I’m Belle. You know Amiri, and those two geniuses are Keith and Ayer.”  
Lysander smiled. “Hi.” 

**Rift (2024)**  
“I can’t believe you’re friends with them.” Lorcan was so indignant he couldn’t even raise his voice. His twin merely stared at him.  
“Who?”  
“Rosier and Avery’s lot!”  
“They’re in my house, Lor. What do you expect?”  
“Well…well…what about Malfoy? You’re even talking like Malfoy now.”  
Lysander rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous, I don’t talk like Scorpius. What’s wrong, Lor?”  
“Do you realize Mum fought against these people’s parents or relatives in the war?”  
Lysander made a face. “I’m not friends with their parents am I? They’re my friends, Lor.”  
Lorcan huffed angrily and stormed away. Lysander let him go.


End file.
